Brothers in Arms
by Aggie2011
Summary: A compilation of modern AU stories, some short, some long based on the AU I built in my Whumptober prompts in 2017. Aramis centered with a heavy dose of Porthos, Athos and bromance. *Modern AU**Brothers in Arms AU*


_Hey guys! It's been a hot minute since I posted anything. Busy has been my middle name! But here I am! This is going to be a home to all the Modern AU storylines that come to my mind, big and small. These will mostly be oneshots, some might be multi-shots, we'll see where my muse takes me! Be warned. This isn't beta'd because my beta has her own life and is not subjected to my whims haha. (*whispers* she's working on a nice little Good Soldier tag that I did for you guys that is taking up her beta time) Anyway, be forgiving of any glaring errors._

* * *

_For some people, "the point of no return" begins at the very moment their souls become aware of each others' existence.  
__**C. Joybell C.**_

* * *

Esmé's head shifted on Aramis' chest, her dark eyes angling to watch the same shifting of colors he was observing as the sky faded from the inky blackness of night to the pinks, oranges, and reds of dawn. He hooked his arm behind his head to give himself a better view across the lake as the sun rose and let out a slow breath.

They'd been out here for hours already. The nightmare this time had been severe, and upon waking had spiraled into an all-too-vivid flashback. Only Esmé's calming presence had prevented a full blown panic attack. She'd guided him back, just as gently and faithfully as she always did. But returning to sleep was out of the question.

So they'd gone for a pre-dawn run through the park near his and Porthos' flat. He'd lapped the entire running circuit twice before he'd felt like his head was clear again. They made their way to the small lake ensconced within the wooded park after that. Panting from the exertion, Aramis had dropped down on the dew-dampened grass and sprawled onto his back. Esmé had curled up next to him with her head on his chest while he stared up at the night sky and waited for dawn.

He would have to head back soon. Porthos would worry despite the note he'd left on the whiteboard they kept attached to their front door. Porthos couldn't help but worry. It had been his default setting since they were children. Though, to be fair, Aramis gave him plenty to worry about.

"What do you think?" he asked Esmé. "Should we pick up coffee and pastry as a peace offering?"

Her ears twitched at the mention of pastries and when Aramis shifted to stand, she leapt up cheerfully.

"Race you to the place on the corner near the flat?" he offered her with an arched brow.

Esmé barked once in response and then took off in a near sprint.

"CHEATING!" Aramis accused before tearing off after her.

He lost sight of her over a hill. He dug his toes into the grass, pumping his arms as he crested the hill himself, only to nearly tripped over her stone still form. A quick side step had him stumbling and nearly slipping on the dewy grass. A few wild windmills with his arms and he managed to find his balance and slow his momentum.

He went to one knee next to Esmé, curling an arm over her back and framing her face with his other hand.

"What's wrong?" he asked immediately, eyes scanning her body for any injuries.

She trembled, ears pricked forward, holding herself completely still. Her attention wasn't on him, it was on something ahead of them.

Aramis turned to face the same direction.

He'd been trained to take in large amounts of visual information in just a glance. He could process a chaotic scene, pick out the relevant details, and react before most people even managed to start taking in information at all.

It was this skill that brought his eyes unerringly to _her_ in the space of a breath.

A woman, petite, blonde, hair in a high messy bun with a running tank and short shorts that showed off just enough skin that Aramis was sure every man in the immediate area noticed her. Every man except the group on bicycles speeding down the running path, that is.

Aramis had seen the occasional cyclist on the running path, to his eternal annoyance. He had even been clipped by someone once. Porthos had nearly gone on the warpath to find the man who had left Aramis sprawled on the ground with a lacerated forearm, but Athos had been able to talk him down.

Aramis had never seen a group this size. They weren't supposed to be on the running path at all. But given the early hour, Aramis suspected they thought no one would mind.

They also apparently expected the woman to move, because not one of them slowed down.

Aramis was running before he'd even realized she was truly in danger.

"Look out!" he shouted as he ran down the hill, sliding part way when his shoes slipped on the grass. When he hit level ground, he kicked into a sprint.

She didn't see the cyclists. The earbuds in her ears prevented her from hearing them or his shout of warning. She was stretching, mouthing the words to whatever song she was listening to.

Aramis was fast. Over short distances, only d'Artagnan had ever out sprinted him.

He closed the distance between them in what had to be Olympic worthy time, Esmé right at his heels. His feet hit the path when the cyclists were only feet away. He wrapped his arms around her and propelled them both off into the grass, twisting his body to ensure he hit the ground first.

She screamed in surprise, clutching to him instinctively as they fell. Her phone went flying, pulling her headphones with it.

His shoulder took the brunt of the fall, thankfully not his bad one, though it would likely yield a nasty bruise all the same. He hardly noticed as adrenaline pounded through his system. For a moment they just laid there, him on his back and her sprawled across his chest.

Her head snapped back from where she'd turned it to watch the cyclist speed by and suddenly wide, startled bright blue eyes met his own.

"I've got you," he assured instinctively.

She blinked, eyes still wide, breath coming in harsh gasps. He could feel her heart pounding against his chest just as frantically as his was.

"So you have," she breathed in response.

Aramis knew he should be moving, should be detangling their limbs, helping her up. But he didn't. He couldn't force himself to look away from her eyes. He'd looked into the eyes of many women in his life – too many according to some. And while there had been the occasional spark of connection, it had never been like this. He couldn't look away, no matter how much he knew he should.

She didn't seem to have any more power in the situation either. She didn't struggle to move, didn't try to push away. Just stayed where she was, hands twisted in the front of his shirt. Chunks of her fine blonde hair brushing his face where they'd come loose from her bun.

For a moment, they only breathed.

Esmé's nose suddenly pressed against his temple, the accompanying whine of worry breaking the spell. Aramis drew in a breath, shifting, and the woman did the same. Together, they climbed to their feet, but he found himself still holding gently to her elbows and her fingers still clutched at his shirt.

Aramis still could not force himself to look away.

"It seems you are my savior," the woman commented. She drew in a deep breath, steadied herself, and then smiled warmly. She seemed to force herself to loosen her hold on his shirt. Aramis released her elbows, but was pleasantly intrigued when she didn't step back from his personal space.

"Esmé deserves the credit," he replied, tilting his head towards the dog where she stood calmly at his side. "She let me know something was wrong."

"I think I can spare some credit for you," she teased before looking down at Esmé.

She smiled broadly and started to reach out, before pausing and looking back at Aramis.

"May I?" she asked.

Aramis shrugged, dropping down to one knee next to Esmé. The woman immediately knelt as well.

"That's up to her." He wrapped an arm around Esmé back, stroking her side and giving the woman teasing smirk. "What do you think, Esmé, is she worthy?"

Esmé's response was to shuffle forward, dipping her head down and pressing her nose into the woman's hand. The beautiful stranger laughed – a beautiful, melodic sound – and immediately started stroking her hand through Esmé's fur.

"She's beautiful," the woman commented. "Esmé is fitting name for such a beautiful girl."

Esmé's tail thumped against the ground at the sound of her name.

Aramis nodded, smiling down at his dog warmly. Esmé had been his companion for over 4 years now. Her presence in his life had been a salvation when things nearly a year after Savoy had still seemed so bleak.

"Well thank you to both of you," the woman offered with a warm smile.

Aramis smiled too.

"I hardly need thanks for taking a woman as beautiful as you in my arms, but Esmé is deeply appreciative," Aramis replied, unable to help the flirty quirk of his lips.

The woman blushed adorably and breathed a chuckle.

"Perhaps you'll allow me to thank you with coffee then," she suggested.

"I do enjoy coffee," he agreed.

She nodded decisively, smiling and extending a hand.

"I'm Anne."

Aramis took her small, smooth hand in his own larger, calloused one.

"Aramis."

* * *

Anne looked across the café table, resisting the urge to pinch herself to prove this wasn't some dream.

Aramis was settling in his chair, having a whispered conversation with Esmé. The dog's tail wagged enthusiastically at the sight of the pastry Aramis had picked.

"One bite, that's it. The rest is mine. _No_, don't give me that look. One bite." There was a pause. "Fine _two_. But that's it!"

Anne hid a grin behind her coffee cup and watched him break off two pieces of his pastry to feed to the dog.

"How long have you had her?" Anne asked when Aramis' attention shifted back to her.

Aramis' hand dropped to absently stroke Esmé's head as he settled more comfortably in his chair. Having already finished her bites of pastry, Esmé rested her head on his lap, staring forlornly at the rest of it on the table.

"Four years back in March," he replied immediately.

Anne watched Esmé inch her nose closer to the table, eyes glued to Aramis' pastry.

"She seems to have quite the unique personality," Anne observed with a grin.

Aramis laughed, a loud, boisterous sound that immediately prompted her own grin to widen in response.

"'Unique' is a good way of putting it," he agreed, absently shifting the pastry farther away from Esmé's nose without looking at her. "She's a good girl," he continued warmly. Then in a whisper she thought might have been only for Esmé, "_Mi niña bella." (My beautiful girl.) _

Anne felt her eyebrows rise at the familiar lilt of Spanish rolling off his tongue.

"_¿Has pasado tiempo en España?" (You've spent time in Spain?) _she asked curiously.

Aramis' gaze snapped up to hers in surprise.

"You speak the language as if you were born to it," Anne explained warmly.

Something light and tender filled his gaze.

"I've never been, actually," he admitted. "My mother was from Spain, though, and she brought me up with the language on her tongue."

"Was?" Anne wondered, careful to keep her voice warm and kind.

Aramis didn't seem to mind the question, but she noticed his hand strayed back to stroke through Esmé's fur again.

"She died when I was young," he revealed quietly. "When I speak her language, I feel as if in some way she's still with me."

Anne smiled sadly, heart heavy with empathy.

"And you?" he asked, glancing down at Esmé when she shifted her head, her attention finally moving from the pastry to focus fully on him. He shook his head slightly at her and gave her an enthusiastic ear scratch. When he looked back at Anne, there was a smile on his face again. "You didn't learn Spanish in a classroom," he deduced with a quirk of his brow.

"No," she agreed. "I was born there. Although, in reality, I've spent very little time _in _Spain since then, but my nanny was Spanish. So, I was also brought up with the language."

Aramis smiled again, his gaze fixed on hers. The way he was looking at her, as if she were the most important thing in all the world at the moment, it was overwhelming and at the same time invigorating. She couldn't remember the last time anyone had looked at her in such a way, if anyone ever had. Louis certainly had never given her a look of such rapt attention. For all of the time they'd been together, Louis could hardly be bothered to focus on anything but himself for any length of time.

"Are you close with your parents?" Aramis asked curiously.

"Not really," she admitted sadly and then hesitated as she debated how to explain the complicated thing that was her relationship with her parents. "I've failed to meet the expectations they had for my life. And it has left things strained."

"I'm sorry to hear that," Aramis offered and he sounded as if he truly was. "Family's important."

There was _something_ in the way he said it, something reverent and just a little pained.

"What about you?" she asked. "Are you close with your father?"

There was a flash of coldness in his eyes, though his face remained neutral. His eyes spoke in a way his expression did not, she realized. He apparently knew it too because he grinned and cut his gaze away, looking down at his pastry.

"I never knew him," he admitted, tearing off a piece of the pastry. Instead of eating it, though, he held it out to the dog. Next to him, Esmé shifted slightly, ignoring the offering in favor of nuzzling closer to his hip.

He had said it casually, as if it were nothing of great consequence to not know one's father. But there was a fresh line of tension in his posture that Anne inexplicably longed to ease.

"Families are important but _complicated_," she commented knowingly.

His gaze returned to hers and he smiled.

"That's why I've found chosen family is the best sort…less complication," he replied.

"Chosen family?" Anne asked, intrigued. She leaned forward and cradled her coffee cup between her hands.

A warm, bright grin lit his face and the last of the tension melted away.

"The kind where blood doesn't matter."

"And you have a 'chosen family'?" Anne deduced.

He nodded.

"Brothers," he replied. "Two of them. Though if I'm being honest I suppose we've recently adopted another."

"Three brothers," she repeated, smiling. "Sounds chaotic."

He laughed.

"If only you knew how right you are. Chaos is definitely the rule of our lives."

She waited to see if he would go on, but he didn't.

"Well, that's not fair, now you've got me intrigued!" she accused.

"I can't very well reveal all of my mystery at once, can I?" he replied with a teasing grin. "How else would I get you to agree to come out with me again?"

Anne blinked, caught off guard by the bluntness of the invitation. But then she felt herself smiling. It was nice to feel pursued. Her relationship with Louis had never been about that. It had always been about expectation, her parent's, Louis', but never, strangely, about _hers._

"I suppose that's fair," she allowed. "I will do what I must." She sighed as it was a great inconvenience to her, but she knew the smile on her face gave away the joke.

"I appreciate your sacrifice," he replied, putting a hand on his chest in mock gratitude.

If it was possible, her smile widened even further.

* * *

"This is me," Anne said, strolling to a stop at the stairs of an apartment building. "Thank you for walking me home."

"It was our pleasure, wasn't it, Esmé?" Aramis replied with a smile, fingers scratching gently at the top of Esmé's head. The dog's tail wagged enthusiastically in response.

Anne bit her lip, searching for a reason to keep him from saying goodbye. The walk back from the coffee shop had been far too short and she wanted nothing more than to just keep talking to him.

Aramis shifted his weight and scratched sheepishly at the back of his neck.

"I find myself coming up with reasons to delay saying goodbye," he admitted with a crooked smile.

"So I'm not the only one, then," she realized with a chuckle.

Aramis' gaze lit up happily at her response. He drifted a step closer without even seeming to realize it and her heart sped up at the increased proximity.

"Jokes aside, I would very much like to see you again. Perhaps when I'm not covered in sweat, tackling you out of the path of murderous cyclists, and my dog, no matter how much I love her, has stayed at home."

Anne laughed.

"Why, Aramis, are you asking me out on a proper date?"

"I'm attempting to, yes," he answered with a chuckle.

"Well, considering you saved my life today, how can I refuse?"

His gaze sobered a bit and he drifted even closer, his hand resting lightly on her upper arm.

"Of course, you can refuse, Anne," he assured sincerely. "But I do hope that you won't."

Anne felt a lump rise in her throat. No one in her life, not her parents and not Louis, had ever given her a choice in _anything_. And when she had taken that choice into her own hands, they had shunned her for it. It was a simple thing for Aramis to say, a simple assurance. But it meant more to her than he could possibly realize.

"I would very much like to see you again too," she finally replied, smiling.

Aramis' answering grin was bright and warming.

"Here," she held out a hand, "let me see your phone."

He immediately dug it out of the pocket of his athletic shorts, unlocked the screen and handed it over without protest. She wondered for a moment at the picture in the background, it was three men, Aramis being one of them, crowded together for a selfie. Aramis' expression was completely ridiculous and goofy, as was the darker skinned man on his left. The third man was smiling, but if an eye roll could be indicated by a quirk of the lips, he was accomplishing it.

His brothers, she realized. His chosen family.

"The one of the left, that's Porthos," he informed her suddenly and she realized she'd been holding his phone without doing anything for several moments. "The other is Athos."

"Your brothers?" she asked, though she'd already guessed.

He nodded, something warm and deeply affectionate in his eyes now.

"Well," she started as she began adding herself to his contacts, "I am very grateful for your rescue today." She handed his phone back and crouched to pet Esmé. "And for yours," she added to the dog, who thumped her tail happily against the ground and leaned into Anne's hand.

"I'll call you," Aramis assured, holding out a hand to help her back to her feet. She nodded and stepped back towards the stairs leading into her building.

She still didn't want to say goodbye, so she settled for waving instead. Aramis returned the gesture and then with a gentle touch against Esmé's head, the two of them started back the way they'd come.

Anne forced herself not to watch them until they were out of sight and instead dug her key out of the small pocket in her shorts. She had just closed the door behind her and started up the stairs when her phone rang.

It was an unfamiliar number.

"Hello?" she answered curiously.

"_How about tomorrow night?" _Aramis' voice greeted her.

Anne couldn't help the wide, ridiculous grin that lit up her face, or the silent celebration she did on the first floor landing. But when she replied, her voice was even.

"Tomorrow night sounds great."

"_Can I pick you up at seven?" _

She nodded, realized he couldn't see her, and forced her voice out.

"Yes! Seven is perfect."

"_I'll see you then, Anne." _

"See you then," she replied.

The line went dead and she immediately jumped up and squealed in excitement. One of the doors near the stairs opened and old Mrs. DuPont glared out at her. Anne immediately stilled, cleared her throat awkwardly and started back up the stairs.

* * *

Aramis pushed open the door to his apartment and let Esmé precede him in. She ran back to the kitchen and he heard Porthos rumble a greeting to her. Aramis closed the door, locked the three deadbolts and then kicked off his shoes, leaving them against the entryway wall.

He headed for the kitchen, raising a hand to catch the water bottle that sailed towards him as he crossed through the doorway.

He lifted the bottle towards Porthos in thankful salute and twisted the cap off.

"You alright?" the other man asked as he shifted to retrieve an omelette out of a pan on the stove.

Aramis took a large drink from the bottle before answering.

"Fine," he assured. "I texted you."

"'Be back later'" Porthos quoted, giving him a dubious look over his shoulder. "I don't know that you could have been any more vague if you tried."

Aramis chuckled.

"I was a bit distracted," he admitted, leaning to scoop food into Esmé's bowl. He ruffled her ears affectionately as she started in on her breakfast and then hopped up to sit on the counter next to the stove, watching Porthos start a second omelette.

His brother's expression was hesitant and when he spoke, his voice was carefully neutral.

"Your note said you left just after two...that was six hours ago, 'Mis."

Aramis winced a little, glancing through the kitchen doorway to the white board on the front door. His message was still there.

_Went on a run with Esmé - 0220_

When he'd promised to stop disappearing without a word, a few months after the Savoy Operation, Porthos had come home with the white board one day. He'd presented it as a way that Aramis could come and go without feeling as if he had to report in to anyone, but at the same time, they would know where he was. He'd taken to adding the time he left to prevent unnecessary worrying.

That, of course, was counterproductive when knowing how long he'd been gone _caused_ the unnecessary worry.

Aramis sighed and glanced at Porthos' profile. The older man was focused very purposefully on the eggs in the pan. Aramis knew his brother was doing his best not to smother. He knew that it was something Porthos had struggled with since Aramis had woken in the hospital after days of unconsciousness. He knew, that as hard as the whole Savoy mess was for him, it had been hard on his brothers too, Porthos especially.

They'd had to work through more than just Aramis' issues in the weeks and months following that fateful and deadly operation. It had seemed at times that Porthos was afraid if he didn't hold on tightly enough, Aramis would slip away.

"It was a bad night," Aramis admitted quietly, looking away to watch Esmé eat. He felt Porthos eyes on his profile for a moment before his brother focused back on the omelett he was building. "I needed to clear my head."

"For six hours?"

Aramis shrugged a shoulder.

"Well, I wasn't clearing my head the entire time."

Porthos nodded slowly and Aramis could almost physically see him biting back further questions.

"There's a difference between demanding and asking, you know...you can ask, Porthos."

Porthos slide him a sideways look and chuckled.

"Okay then, what were you doing for the rest of that time?"

Aramis grinned.

"Funny you should ask, I was saving a woman's life."

Porthos froze mid omelette fold and looked fully at him.

"Come again?"

Aramis' grin widened.

"Oh you know, just your normal run-of-the-mill homicidal cyclists."

Porthos scowled.

"Those guys are a bloody menace."

Aramis chuckled.

"You're not wrong there, brother."

Porthos lifted the second omelette out of the pan and onto a plate.

"Saved her life, did you?"

"Dramatically and heroically," Aramis affirmed. "Tackled her out of the way just in the nick of time."

Porthos tossed a fork onto one of the plates and handed it to him. His brother's eyebrow arched now, gaze looking over Aramis assessingly.

"Relax. Other than what's certain to be a fairly dramatic bruise on my shoulder, I'm no worse for wear."

Porthos hummed doubtfully and jumped up to sit on the counter on the opposite side of the stove.

"So you've been running around saving damsels all morning?"

"Just the one."

Porthos chewed thoughtfully on a bite of his omelette.

"So was she grateful?" he asked.

"Quite. Not at all like that lady in the park that one time." A shiver glided down Aramis' spine at the memory of the spiteful, rude woman he and Porthos had saved from a mugger only to have her spray them both with pepper spray. "She took me for coffee and then I walked her home."

Porthos was watching him with an intrigued grin now.

"Walked her home, did you?"

Aramis glared over at him.

"You can wipe that grin off your face."

"You liked her," the older man realized.

Aramis was saved from having to craft a response by the locks on the front door disengaging. Instinctively, he tensed, still raw from the nightmare. Porthos' smirk immediately softened to a look of concern.

"'Mis…"

"It's just Athos," Aramis snapped. "I know."

Porthos held up a hand of surrender and went back to his omelette. Aramis sighed.

"Sorry," he offered quietly as Athos came in, closed the door and re-engaged all the locks.

"Since when do I need apologies, brother?" Porthos replied warmly.

A moment later, their third appeared in the kitchen doorway, a cardboard drink carrier in his hand with three cups safely stored inside. He arched an eyebrow as he looked at them.

"What?" they asked together.

"You realize you have a perfectly good table right over there," Athos pointed out, gesturing towards the small circular table on the far side of the kitchen.

Porthos and Aramis shared a look, glanced down at the counter they'd chosen to sit on, and then silently agreed to ignore the comment.

"Want an omelette?" Porthos offered. Athos shook his head negatively in response, setting the coffee on the nearest counter. "'Mis was just telling me how he met a girl this morning."

"Shocking," Athos teased with a smirk, holding out one of the white cups to Aramis.

Aramis rolled his eyes as he accepted it. He knew he tended to get involved with more women than either of his brothers. He'd gone through a fair number of short lived relationships over the years. He had never had a problem _meeting_ women ready to jump into his arms, or his bed for that matter. The problems came when they realized Aramis was shit at letting himself be vulnerable around anyone but his brothers. 'Emotionally unavailable' was the label a few had thrown in his face as they dumped him. Some just truly hadn't worked out and they'd parted amicably. Aramis and long term relationship just didn't seem to fit, not since Isabelle.

"Very funny," he shot back at Athos in good humor. They'd teased him about this before and likely would again.

"I was merely observing the lack of novelty that goes with you meeting women," Athos added, handing another cup to Porthos.

"Yes, _thank you_." Aramis lifted the middle finger of his left hand in Athos' direction.

"He didn't just meet this one. He saved her life," Porthos added around a large bite of his omelette.

"Did he?" Athos looked intrigued now as he leaned back against the counter nearest the doorway and sipped his own coffee.

"Cyclists," Aramis supplied around a bite of omelette.

Athos nodded knowingly.

"So what then? You walked her home and...? Did she invite you in?" Porthos asked with a waggling eyebrow.

Aramis shook his head as he swallowed the last of his omelette.

"Just gave me her number."

"Are you losing your touch?" Porthos teased.

"I don't think she's that type of girl," Aramis replied, smiling to himself as he thought back over the short time he'd spent with her.

He felt the others looking at him, but kept his focus intently on checking the temperature of his coffee.

"So are you going to call her?" Athos asked eventually.

Aramis pretended not to hear him, and instead took a testing sip from the cup.

"I think he's blushing," Porthos stage whispered.

Aramis rolled his eyes again, not sure he wanted to admit he hadn't been able to get more than half a block away before giving in to the urge to call her. They'd never let him live it down.

"What a moment... you already did!" Porthos exclaimed suddenly.

Startled, Aramis looked up at him. Sometimes he thought perhaps he and Porthos had known each other a bit too long.

"Maybe…" he hedged.

Porthos laughed, but it wasn't mocking, it was just _happy_.

"You really _do_ like her, don't you?" the older man realized more calmly.

Aramis shifted, sliding off the counter to put his plate in the sink, avoiding both of their gazes.

"How far away did you even get?" Athos asked curiously. There was no mocking in his voice now either.

Aramis cleared his throat, wiped his hands on his pants and turned to face them. They'd get it out of him eventually, better just to face the teasing.

"Half a block."

Both of them stared at him, Athos with a knowing smirk on his lips and Porthos with a wide, goofy grin. Seeing an opportunity for a quick exit, Aramis shifted towards the door.

"I'm going to grab a shower."

"Wait, wait, wait!" Porthos jumped off the counter, waving his fork. "What did she say?"

Aramis paused in the doorway, unable to help his smile as he glanced back at them and rested his coffee on the counter.

"I'm taking her out tomorrow night."

Aramis wasn't sure how two men could look quite so genuinely thrilled about a date that wasn't even theirs. Porthos had been there for the Isabelle fiasco, and they'd both been there for the mess that came from dating Adele. Aramis couldn't honestly remember being this intrigued by a woman since.

"He's blushing again," Athos stated suddenly, a teasing light in his eyes.

Aramis scowled.

"He is! That's adorable!" Porthos added gleefully.

Aramis rolled his eyes, lifted both middle fingers to them this time, snagged his coffee off the counter, and walked away.

"Aramis and Mystery Girl sitting in a tree!" He heard Porthos start to sing. He slammed the door of the bathroom just as Porthos launched into "K-I-S-S-I-N-G!"

* * *

_There we go! The first installment of this compilation of peeks into my Modern AU - Brothers in Arms. Despite the faults in it, I've always deeply loved the relationship between Anne and Aramis in the original show, so I look forward to bringing a version of it to life here and also to explore it in my show-based stuff. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this! Please forgive any grammatical mistakes! And forgive my use of Google Translate for the Spanish! _

_Until next time!_


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